


The Nightmare You Know

by Snowy_Cas



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (I hope), Angst, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Brief Mentions of Blood, Dark Magic, F/M, Horror, M/M, Mentioned Gwen/Leon, Necromancy, Post-Canon, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowy_Cas/pseuds/Snowy_Cas
Summary: On the night of Samhain, when the veil between worlds is thinnest, Merlin takes it upon himself to resurrect Arthur.But something goes wrong.
Relationships: Gwen/Leon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 27





	The Nightmare You Know

“Will you be joining us at the feast?”

Merlin sat on his bed, staring at the wall. He stayed quiet, and didn’t even seem to be listening to a word Gaius said. He’d been like that ever since Arthur died. Not talking and hardly leaving his room, he was almost a shell of who he’d once been. He no longer carried out his servant duties -- Gwen had insisted someone of his ability shouldn’t be limited to that, and tried to give him a new position for his magic. Merlin was grateful to not have to be a servant anymore, but he denied her offer. Instead, he helped Gaius from time to time, and even then, only when help was desperately needed. 

“Merlin?” Gaius repeated.

He blinked a few times, then sighed, turning his head to face Gaius. As he twiddled his fingers mindlessly in his lap, he replied, “I can’t.”

Gaius huffed, “You’re going to have to attend one eventually. I know it’s strange that Arthur isn’t here, Merlin, I’m sorry, but I believe it’s time for you to move on.”

“It hasn’t even been a year, Gaius,” Merlin said hoarsely. He stared up at the physician with wide eyes. “I knew him for 8 years, I think I’m allowed to take time to grieve.”

“Even then, Gwen has told me that Leon is starting to suspect you don’t approve of him as king. Coming to the feast tonight would show that you harbor no ill feelings toward him.”

Merlin shot up from the bed and advanced towards Gaius, taking him aback. “I don’t approve of him as king.”

“But Merlin--”

“Leon’s a good man, alright? I know he cares for the kingdom a great deal, and he and Gwen are happy together, but he isn’t Arthur. There will never be someone else who can do the job as well as he could,” Merlin explained furiously. “It has nothing to do with Leon himself.” His face was a mask of anger, but his eyes told a different story. They were lost and melancholic. After Arthur's death their blue had dulled, and often shone with tears, as they did tonight.

Gaius took this as a sign to stop pushing. Merlin wasn’t coming to the feast, it was as simple as that. He nodded sadly at the boy and made to leave the room. He stopped in the doorway, his hand holding the door a crack open, and turned back. 

“We’ll miss you there, especially Gwen.”

Merlin sighed, calming down. His shoulders relaxed from their tensed state and he sat back down on the bed. His eyes were dry now, the dim light from the room being the only glint in them. He paused for a moment, thinking, then said, “Tell her that I couldn’t be there, even if I wanted to. I have something I need to do tonight.”

A wave of confusion passed over Gaius’ face.

Merlin noticed, and asked plainly, “The feast for tonight, what’s it for?”

“Samhain, but Merlin, I don’t understand I--”

“Gaius.”

“What?”

“The veil between worlds, it’s at its thinnest tonight.”

For a few seconds, Gaius still didn’t seem to get what Merlin was trying to say, but looking deeper into Merlin's stormy eyes, a fatal realization set it. He immediately took his hand off the door and rushed back into the room. Merlin rose once more to meet him, just as Gaius started to speak.

“No, you can’t be thinking of doing what I think you are.”

“I need him back, Gaius,” Merlin insisted pleadingly. “ _Camelot_ needs him back.”

Gaius shook his head, “Camelot has Leon.”

Merlin laughed cynically, then responded, his voice raw, “And who do I have?” Gaius began to say something, but Merlin cut him off. “Before you say I have you or Gwen, it’s not the same. Arthur and I…” he faltered. He ran his hands through his hair and huffed out a breath. Words escaped him when he opened his mouth. Trying again, he managed to gasp, “It’s just different, that’s all.”

There were no words exchanged between the two of them for the next minute, there was no need, as they spoke with their eyes. Gaius’ were dejected, begging Merlin not to do this,yet there was no denying the look Merlin was giving him. He had his mind set, and there would be no changing it.

Tonight, he was bringing Arthur back. 

The chilly air cut through him like a knife. Merlin’s hot breath materialized in a small cloud in front of his face that was quickly dissipated by the harsh wind. It made the few dead leaves that remained on the branches overhead rustle fiercely, sounding like someone whispering in Merlin’ ear, warning him to turn back. Although the idea made Merlin’s skin crawl he marched forward. He tried to push away his traitorous thoughts, but the wind really did remind him of an unearthly howl, and if he unfocused his vision, that bare branch up ahead could’ve been a decaying arm. 

Suddenly, everything in the forest wasn’t as it seemed. 

Dark shadows, just out of reach of the light of the full moon, loomed out of the corners of his eyes, but when he turned there was nothing. He felt a cold breath on the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. It was just the air, he knew that, and still he couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more. Even as something darted through the underbrush, Merlin had a hard time convincing himself it was just a squirrel. 

His breathing heavied as he quickened his pace, now taking swift strides through the forest and holding onto the strap of his satchel so tightly it hurt. He did his best to ignore his unsettling surroundings and told himself that everything was going to be fine. It was just his nerves. Before he knew it, he was going to be on his way back to Camelot, laughing and joking with Arthur. Yes, Arthur was going to be here and it was all going to be okay. Merlin let out a shaky breath. He was feeling slightly better now, remembering what he was here for. The trees began to look less menacing, and he smiled as he saw an innocent rabbit twitch its nose at him from a bush, then hop away.

Merlin continued on his walk through the woods. The first time he’d thought about doing this, he’d considered going to the lake, starting a new beginning at the end of it all, but he’d decided against it. It wasn’t a journey he’d like to take again, and he feared if he saw it so soon after Arthur’s passing, he wouldn't be able to go through with the ritual. Instead, he chose a spot in the forest, a clearing he’d read about in Gaius’ oldest books, the ones he preferred Merlin not read but he did anyway. It was said that in the days when magic ruled over the land, the clearing was considered a sacred place where on the night of Samhain, people from all around would be able to summon their loved ones for just enough time to get closure. They would gather with food and drinks, going all out for the last time they’d see the deceased before the next time Samhain came around.

Merlin wasn’t just going to bring back Arthur for a moment, though. He needed Arthur back fully. 

He was unsure of where exactly he was supposed to be going, though. The directions in the book were rather unclear. They gave a general idea of where one must travel to to find the clearing, but nothing more. It only otherwise said that those who seek it will know when they have found it.

Merlin had scoffed when he’d read this, but he’d gone along with it. There had been a few more passages on the page, but Merlin had only skimmed them, for they hadn’t appeared to contain any useful information. 

Too bad. He was starting to really wish for specific directions.

In the past few minutes, the wind had grown stronger. It whipped through Merlin’s hair and chafed his cheeks until he was sure they were pink. His ears were practically frozen and his teeth chattered. Merlin shivered and pulled his jacket around himself as tightly as he could . The possibility of the clearing existing lessened more and more as Merlin kept walking. Everywhere he looked was the exact same--scraggly shrubs and bare trees, maybe a rock if he was lucky. There were a few clearings, but none of them stood out to him. They were the same as every clearing he’d ever encountered in his life. It was nothing after nothing after nothing. Merlin started to spin in a circle, looking at the woods around him. His jaw clenched and he bit back a frustrated yell.

How could he have been so stupid as to believe some dusty old book? 

“You’ll know when you’ve found it, yeah right,” he muttered to himself. “So where is it?”   
Merlin paused, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t going to be one, of course--he was alone in the middle of a dark forest.

“Where is it, huh?” Merlin said, his voice growing increasingly louder and more agitated. “I don’t see anything!” His own words echoed through the trees, spitting back at him. “There’s nothing out here! No special clearing, just… trees and leaves and rocks and grass. It’s like every single other place in the kingdom!” Merlin screamed. Tears began to well up in his eyes out of frustration, out of pain, out of an unquenchable anger that had boiled inside of him since Arthur had so violently ripped from his side.

His plans weren’t working out. This was supposed to be the night that his king returned to him, the night they were finally going to be together again, the night that was supposed to fix everything, and he couldn’t even find the damn clearing. He huffed. He wasn’t going to be able to find another place before the sun rose, and he couldn't pick just anywhere, Arthur had to come back into this world somewhere that meant something, not just any old patch of grass. The hours of Samhain were depleting quickly, and at the rate things were going, Merlin was going to have to wait another year to summon Arthur again.

He shut his eyes and let the tears fall. At that moment, he just wanted to fall to his knees and give up. It seemed the only thing he could ever do right was fail.

Grief began to wash over him. Maybe he was never going to see Arthur again. He knew what KIlgharrah told him, and Samhain was going to come around again, but to Merlin it was so far into the future. It was so long to wait, every second he spent apart from his dear Arthur a excruciating eternity . 

With a sigh, Merlin turned around and began to walk back the way he came, heading for Camelot. 

That’s when he saw it.

A few feet ahead of him lay a clearing, _the_ clearing. How he hadn’t seen it before was a complete mystery. He was instantly unsettled by the sight.

It was very small, and partially obscured by a fog that carpeted the ground and swirled as he approached, casting a ghostly effect that reminded Merlin all too much of the Dorocha. It hadn’t been foggy just a minute ago.

Merlin now proceeded with more caution.

The rest of the clearing was more visible now that he was closer. The grass beneath the fog was brittle and coarse. It wasn’t a soft green like that which surrounded it; instead, it was a musty light brown as if something had sucked the life out of it. There were a few flowers and ferns sprinkled throughout the grass, but they were all withered.

Merlin shuddered.

On the outskirts were four trees, extending their spindly branches upwards and out above the clearing. Parts of the bark had rotted away from each of them, revealing the pale skeletons inside. Merlin’s mouth dropped open and he slowly took a step into the clearing. It was darker there than it was in the rest of the forest. Confused, Merlin looked up. The branches of the four trees clustered together far above his head, crossing and intertwining and cutting off all luminosity from the full moon. The lack of moonlight also made it even colder, if that was even possible. Merlin’s jacket wasn’t enough to keep him warm nor was his unshakable will. 

He started to feel doubtful. Not about his abilities--he was sure that he could bring Arthur back to life, but he didn’t know if he should. There was something about the clearing that was getting to his head. The trees were too symmetrical to one another, and it was too dark, too cold, too… dead, how could any good come out of such a place. Merlin couldn’t imagine people ever gathering here in festivity.

He knew it was the right place, though, just as the book had said, he felt it deep inside, an instinct of self preservation as ancient as the earth was urging him to run, but his heart in his agony had rooted him to the spot. 

With a sigh, he slung his satchel off from his shoulder and it slid onto the grass below with a crunch. As much as he felt like he should go, he hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Merlin closed his eyes and tried to picture Arthur in his mind. His golden hair, his tanned skin, those blue eyes that could always make his day brighter. Merlin smiled to himself and exhaled slowly. 

“Okay,” he muttered. “That’s it, just calm down.”

After a few more deep breaths, he was ready to begin the ritual.

He reached into the satchel and pulled out the spellbook he was going to recite from, as well as four candles. Merlin glanced down at the candles, then up at the trees. Four of each. It was oddly perfect.

Gathering them up, Merlin took the candles to the gnarled roots of the trees and placed down three of them carefully. 

The fourth one he brought close to his face and whispered, “Forbearnan.”

His eyes flashed gold and a small but steady flame leapt to the wick of the candle. It eerily illuminated the clearing, casting dancing shadows across the ground and along the lengths of the trees. Merlin went to each other candles already nestled in the ground and lit them, then walked to the fourth and final tree. As he was putting the candle down, he froze. He’d heard a noise behind him.

Merlin shut his eyes and quietly cursed under his breath.

He slowly straightened his back, careful not to shift and crunch the grass beneath, then whirled around in a flash, sticking the candle out in front of himself defensively. 

There was nothing.

Merlin lowered the candle and glanced around to make sure he really was alone. To his right, a small shrew skittered out from behind a tree and made its way across the clearing, pausing to disdainfully squeak at Merlin, then disappeared into the night. He chuckled. Of course it was just a shrew.

Shaking his head, Merlin turned back around and finally put the candle in its place. He grabbed the spell book, plainly labeled _Necromancy_ , and flipped through the yellowing pages before he found the one he had marked back at the castle. 

Before starting the incantation, he read over the page a few more times. He could never be too sure, and he could make no mistakes with this spell, not when everything depended on it. Merlin had seen people been brought back before, but they were never as they’d been in life, their visage the same but their mind always wrong and twisted. He pictured Lancelot, and he shivered.

This spell, though, was said to essentially resume the person's life, bringing them back well and healthy, as though their death had never occurred.

Reading this, Merlin’s confidence improved, and he began to incant. 

“Arthur Pendragon,” he started.

“Eftcyme, Arthur.”

“Eftcyme æt mec.”

He stopped and looked up from the book. The flames of the candles were growing, reaching out like slender fingers trying to grasp something that wasn’t there. The spell had to be working. 

Merlin continued, “Gehiere mec, Arthur Pendragon, onben.”

The fire grew stronger.

“Onben.”

His face was getting hot, the chill of the night no longer piercing through his clothes.

 _“Onben!”_ He recited, hand pushed forward, trying to focus all his power into the spell. 

Merlin jumped back as the four flames shot up into the air with such strength that the sound of them roared throughout the forest and caused Merlin to drop the book. He turned in a circle to look at each one. They were so powerful that it was a miracle that the trees or the grass didn’t catch fire. The burning intensity that surrounded Merlin began to overwhelm him. He tried to run out between two of the trees but was stopped by a wall of heat that threatened to burn him to a crisp were he to cross. He found himself cornered in the center of the clearing and raised his arm to shield his stinging eyes. There was no smoke, but he still felt the need to cough. Maybe something had gone wrong with the spell, and he needed to try again. Looking around at the array of flashing colors blanketing him, his magic at the tip of his tongue when the fire went out.

It didn’t die down gradually--instead, it was as if it had been suddenly extinguished by an invisible force. Tendrils of smoke snaked their way up into the empty dark of the night. 

The cold was back and had doubled in its severity. Merlin’s body was wracked with shivers right down to the bones, the tips of his fingers growing numb. His mind told him that it only felt colder because of the instant lack of heat, but his gut told him it was something else, something that was the direct cause of the chill.

There was a presence that wasn’t there before. 

A twig snapped in the distance.

Merlin reeled around to focus in the direction it had come from.

There, beyond the clearing, was a dark figure, silhouetted by the pale moonlight. It was too far away to make out any features, but Merlin didn’t need to see them to know who it was.

He was back. 

Despite his chattering teeth, Merlin was able to smile, the first real smile that he’d done since Arthur’s death. He was in the woods in the middle of the night, but he could already feel his world getting brighter. With a relieved laugh, Merlin took a step out of the clearing, but before he could take another, he came to a sudden stop.

The way the figure walked was Merlin’s first sign that something wasn’t right.

It loped towards him, its gait unnatural and strangely constricted. It moved slowly, but the intent behind each step reminded Merlin of how a wild animal acts when stalking its prey. 

Merlin instinctively tried to turn and run, but he forced his feet to stay planted on the ground. This was his friend. He brought back Arthur. Arthur with a limp, but still _Arthur_.

Right?

The approaching figure was still obscured by the shadows of the dense trees and the fog that continued to float sinisterly through the air. Its breathing was heavy and strained. Merlin craned his neck, desperate to find one identifying feature of his friend. 

Hesitantly, Merlin asked, “Arthur? Is that you?”

Then it emerged into the moonlight. 

Merlin’s eyes widened and he let out a trembling gasp, having to clap a hand over his mouth to prevent it from turning into a cry. His ears filled with the sound of his heart beating furiously. Fear coursed through his veins and he tried to exhale again, but his breath caught in his throat. The horror that lay ahead of him nearly made Merlin d feel sick to his stomach. It was Arthur, but it _wasn’t_. 

The spell had gone awry.

Whatever came back was gaining speed, and was going to be upon Merlin before he knew it. His body was now screaming at him to get out of there as fast as he could. 

Merlin backed away step by step at first, unable to tear his eyes away, however much he wanted to, then came to his senses and took off running in the opposite direction.

He only made it about two feet before he tripped on something, causing him to slam his face into the ground. His vision flashed white from the pain for an instant and he cried out. Merlin feebly lifted himself off the ground and touched his fingers gingerly to his nose. They came back coated in blood. His nose was broken. Merlin looked down at his feet to see what had slipped him up. It was the spellbook he’d dropped earlier, of course it was. He groaned, trying to fully get himself up, but he couldn’t, he settled for crawling, his hands grabbing fists of dead leaves and his knees dragging in the dirt pathetically, trying to escape the horror he had created

The grass crunched behind him.

It was in the clearing.

Oh God, it was right there and he couldn’t move. His limbs were weighed down, his legs too weak to even bend, his body had given up . It was that feeling he’d get in a dream, where he would be faced with the creatures from the darkest crevices of his mind and would try to run away, but was unable to, no matter how much strength he put into it. The only difference was that now he couldn’t close his eyes and wake up, safe and warm in the comfort of his bedroom--this was real life. He had to move _now_.

Merlin managed to turn himself over, and immediately regretted it. He was staring up at it, now less than a foot away from him. With a whimper, Merlin scrambled backwards. He bit back a yelp as his ankle began to throb. Just moving it across the ground hurt enough, he wasn’t going to be able to stand on it. 

The thing took another lumbering step.

“G-get back,” Merlin stammered, and held out an unsteady hand in defense while continuing to crawl backwards. He tasted iron as blood continued to drip down his face. He panted, his whole body now shaking. His command was futile against the imminent threat. 

He tried again with more force, “I said get back!”

Merlin was now pressed up against one of the trees. It didn’t stop coming. An acrid smell clogged his nose even more than the blood already was, and he didn’t know if it was from the rot on the tree or what he had summoned. Bile rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down so he could speak once more. 

_“Anforlætan!”_

Power surged through his body, starting from his chest and spreading out to the roots of his hair and the tips of his fingers. His eyes were shut tight, but he could feel the magic reach them as well and turn the blue into a brilliant gold. For a moment, his strength returned to him. The pain in his ankle and nose dwindled until it was hardly noticeable. He reached out his arm and felt the magic shoot out from it.

He heard a sickening crunch, then a thud, and he opened his eyes. 

Relief washed over him.

It must’ve flown back and hit the tree, cracking its spine in the process, for now it lay sprawled in the clearing, resembling a rag doll. Its proportions were all wrong, more than they had been before. 

Merlin wasn’t immediately sure he was safe, but a better look told him that the thing was too broken to ever get up again. 

He relaxed his muscles and leaned his head back against the tree, letting tears fall from his eyes. That last spell had drained him of the rest of his energy, but he still had to get back to Camelot. He wasn’t going to try again.

  
  


“Merlin, try to calm down,” Gaius soothed. He draped a blanket around Merlin, who sat shivering on a bench. 

He’d woken Gaius up by barging into the chambers at nearly three in the morning and slamming the door loudly behind him. The physician had been quite angry at first, but took pity on him once he’d lit a candle and seen the look on Merlin’s face.

Merlin tried to explain to Gaius what had happened, but he spoke too quickly and tripped over his words. His nerves still had not completely died down.

Gaius, even though he looked exhausted, was trying his hardest to reassure Merlin. “Just slow down, and start from the beginning.”

After a few gasping breaths that grew steadier as they went on, Merlin spoke. His voice was quiet as he said, “I went out to the forest to find a clearing I’d read about, one that was used on Samhain back in the day.” He clenched his jaw remembering the feeling that place gave him, and how he’d stupidly ignored all of his instincts. “When I found it, I did the spell, and I thought it had worked, but…”

Merlin stopped. He wasn’t sure how to phrase what he was trying to say.

“But it wasn’t Arthur,” Gaius finished for him.

Merlin looked up. He shook his head and said, “No, it was him. At least I think it was, but he was… wrong _._ ”

“It’s possible that it was his reanimated corpse.”

Again, Merlin disagreed, “That’s not it. Whatever I brought back, it was alive. It was _breathing_.” 

At this, Gaius took a step back. He raised his eyebrow and slowly asked, “Merlin, what book did you read this in?”

“Uhh, it was one of the ones over there,” Merlin replied, waving his hand in the general direction of a stack of books across the chambers. Gaius rushed over and began sorting through them, looking at the covers and discarding various ones. Merlin, staring off at nowhere in particular with hollow eyes, didn’t seem to notice his alarm and continued, “It was horrifying, Gaius, nothing like I’d ever seen before. I’ve never felt more scared of any--”

 _“Which_ book was it?” Gaius demanded. 

Merlin snapped out of his thoughts and blinked a few times, before turning his head to the physician. He scrunched his nose and said, “I’m not sure, the title had something to do with Samhain, but--”

“The Extended History and Lore of Samhain?”

“Yes, I think that was it.” Merlin got up from the bench and walked over to Gaius. “Why, what’s going on?”

Gaius didn’t respond; instead he began to flip through the pages of the old book in his hands. His eyes ran up and down each page quickly before flipping to the next one again and again, until he stopped on one. He set the book down on the table and touched his finger to a drawing on the page. Merlin leaned over to look at it. It was the clearing from earlier.

“Is this it?”

Merlin nodded.

Gaius sighed, and began to read through the text, his fingers running along every line. Merlin watched him with bated breath. Had he misread something? Was this not where he should’ve gone? A minute passed by, and Gaius was still reading. Merlin wanted to ask him once more what was happening, but held his tongue. Finally, Gaius lifted his hand from the book. He turned to Merlin uneasily. On his face were several conflicting emotions.

Merlin’s heart began to race yet again, and he fearfully asked, “What is it?”

“How long did you try to bring Arthur back for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just tell me, Merlin.”

Merlin paused, carefully choosing his words. “I wanted to bring him back for good. The spell I used said it would make it as if they’d never died in the first place.”

Gaius said nothing. With a furrowed brow, he glanced back down at the words written in the book, and then at the drawing of the clearing. Merlin swallowed hard. When Gaius didn’t talk, he was in trouble. Finally, the physician spoke, “You didn’t read the text fully, did you…”

“No, but I just needed the directions,” Merlin protested. “I skimmed the rest, but I didn’t see anything important.”

Silence.

“Gaius, just tell me what it is.”

“It says,” Gaius hesitated. “It says to never, under any circumstances, try to bring someone back for longer than a few moments.”

Merlin’s heart jumped to his throat and he grabbed the book from Gaius to read it for himself. Sure enough, it was written near the bottom of the page. Gaius had said it word for word. Oh god, why hadn’t he just read the whole thing? 

Merlin began to read it through, and frantically asked, “What will happen if you do?”

“It doesn’t say.”

Merlin scoffed. “Of course it does, it has to. It’s here somewhere.”

“Merlin…”

He must’ve read over the last few passages a dozen times before he accepted that it really didn't say. The feeling he had in the forest returned. He glanced up at Gaius with wide eyes. “But it’s going to be fine, right?”

Gaius looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

Merlin continued, “I mean, I killed it. It was dead, I saw it with my own eyes.” He pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, it was beginning to grow cold in the room. “There’s no way in hell it’s going to come back.”

After a few seconds that felt stretched out to an eternity, Gaius reassured him, “Yes, it’s going to be alright, Merlin.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just try to get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning,” Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He himself didn’t look convinced by his own words, but Merlin decided they’d both been through enough that night, and left it alone. He gave Gaius a nod and a smile to hide his unsettled feeling.

“Okay,” he shakily laughed. “You’re right, it’s all going to be okay in the morning.” 

Gaius smiled now, too, but his didn’t seem to be masking anything. As Merlin began to head to his room, Gaius called out, “Goodnight, Merlin.”

With his hand on the door, Merlin turned back. He locked eyes with Gaius and opened his mouth. He didn’t say anything, though. He was afraid that if he spoke, he’d say something that revealed just how scared he really was. 

A picture of the body in the clearing flashed through his mind. 

Shivers ran through his body.

He heard Gaius say his name, and grounded himself back in reality.

Merlin nodded once more, then went into his room, shutting the door tight behind him.

Later that night, Merlin woke to the sound of something outside his door.

He sat up straight in his bed, blood rushing in his ears and his shirt stuck tight to his chest with sweat. He slowly brought a hand up to his mouth to conceal any faint gasp he may let out. Merlin shut his eyes and waited in suspense for whatever was going to come next.

But there was nothing.

The room was deathly quiet except for his heartbeat.

Cautiously, Merlin opened his eyes. He strained to listen for anything--the creak of a floorboard, a whisper in the dark, even the breeze--but it was silent.

He lowered his hand and breathed out a relieved sigh. It must’ve just been his imagination. With a slight laugh, he shifted back underneath his blanket and prepared to go back to sleep.

That’s when he heard the noise again. 

A heavy thud, like a footstep.

It wasn’t Gaius.

Merlin held his breath and set one shaky leg down onto the floor, and then the other. As he carefully stood up, he heard another step. 

It was back.

He hadn’t killed it.

Merlin gulped, and limped to his bedroom door.

Another lumbering step, another, and then one more, until it was right outside.

Awful ragged breathing came from the other side of the thin wood. 

Merlin was terrified, but he wasn’t left with any option but to try and fight it. He backed up until he was a few feet away, his back against the wall,and raised his hands, ready to cast a spell at any moment.

His breath died in his lungs and his mind whirred with possibilities and the rustling of movement warned him. 

Then the door swung open. 

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY (way late) HALLOWEEN Y'ALL  
> i was gonna post the 31st, but i didn't finish in time  
> i just hope i gave someone a good spook! ;)


End file.
